


Freak Addams

by meshtams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Addams Family - Lippa/Brickman & Elice
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Dangerous Harry Potter, Dark Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Harry is adopted by the Addams Family, Powerful Harry, Renamed Harry Potter, Scary Harry Potter, Slytherin Harry Potter, harry murders the dursleys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28585986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meshtams/pseuds/meshtams
Summary: Aged 6, Harry Potter murders his abusive relatives and is adopted by the addams family. when he starts at hogwarts, one roommate stands out above the others- could Draco Malfoy be his "cara mia"?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 39
Kudos: 424





	Freak Addams

Harry James Potter, as he was famously known in the Wizarding world in spite of his not knowing that was his name at all, stood in the centre of his relatives’ living room, blood running down his forearms and dripping onto the cream carpet. He was six years old, but you wouldn’t know it to look at him- his body was so scrawny and malnourished that he looked no older than four, though the scars all over his back and arms seemed too old and too plentiful for one of his age. He shook his hair out of his eyes- it was tangled and dirty and an awkward length- and looked around the room. 

His Aunt Petunia was first. Whilst Dudley was still at school and Uncle Vernon still at work, he’d creeped into the room where she was relaxing on the sofa while he did all the chores and slit her throat from behind, using the sharpest butchers knife he could find. Once she finished bleeding out and finally went fully lax, he’d moved around to stand in front of her, clambering up onto the low coffee table until he could comfortably reach her face, at which point he cut through both sides of her mouth and up to her cheekbones, and then stabbed the tip of his knife into both eyes, left then right.

Once he was done, he leaned back and admired his masterpiece- she was certainly prettier in death than she had been in life. Nodding to himself, he headed back to his cupboard to wait for Dudley to get home. Dudley was the same age as Harry, but he had been going to the primary school around the corner for nearly two years now, whereas Harry spent his days cleaning the house or locked in his cupboard. 

The small boy heard the door open. Dudley had been very glad when at the beginning of his school year, his father had told him he was finally old enough to walk home alone, but that would now be the main thing allowing Harry to complete his task. 

“Mum! I’m home!” Dudley shouted, as though anyone could miss the heavy stomps of his fat feet on the hallway floorboards. “What’s for dinner, Freak?!” Dudley practically waddled towards the kitchen, where he expected Harry to be as he was every other day. As soon as Dudley got past his cupboard, however, Harry flung open the door and stabbed his knife straight through his cousin’s thick neck. The gurgle of blood was like music to Harry’s ears, and the sight of it slowing freely from Dudley’s mouth was beautiful. Honestly, they should be thanking him, after all, he was making them much prettier than they’d ever been before. 

Harry heaved his cousin’s fleshy, rotund corpse up, dragging him towards the living room where his mother’s body was. He dropped him to the floor as soon as they were far enough in that he could shut the door. Harry quickly wiped up the blood, thankful that the hallway floors were hardwood and not carpet, because his third and final kill of the day (he would never say of all time, because who knew what would happen in the future; maybe someone else would do something to deserve his ‘special treatment’ somewhere down the line) would be the most difficult, and he would need to catch his uncle by surprise and likely come at him from behind, as he had with the others. After all, he was a malnourished six-year-old, and his uncle was an obese, surprisingly strong 32-year-old man- even the knife wouldn’t give him enough of an advantage to beat him one-on-one. 

As he heard the car pull into the driveway, Harry moved quickly to hide by the front door, so that when it opened Uncle Vernon wouldn’t see him immediately, and then he could strike. It worked perfectly. The door swung open, and his uncle walked straight past him yelling “Boy, why can’t I smell dinner cooking?” and Harry pounced, jabbing his knife into the back of his knee- Harry had been stealing books from his cousin and the library and teaching himself to read since he was three, and he knew from the anatomy book he’d stolen that there was an artery that would make him bleed out rapidly there. His uncle turned as he went down, screaming and reaching out to grab at Harry, who took advantage of his small stature to dodge at scramble up the stairs, sitting himself at the top and watching as Vernon clawed his way towards the closed living room door, but when he reached it and pulled it open only to be met by the sight of his dead wife and son, he passed out. The blood pooled around Vernon in a macabre puddle, and Harry made his way back down the stairs and slashed his knife across both of his uncle’s eyes, splitting them open, before he dropped the knife and turned to go back upstairs. 

For the first time in his short life, Harry was able to shower with warm water, picking out the nicest smelling soaps and using them all. He smiled to himself as he got out, wrapping one of the warm, fluffy guest towels around himself instead of the greying rag he usually had to use and padding barefoot towards Dudley’s room. He opened the closet and flicked through all of the clothes- they were mostly incredibly ugly, and were all at least five sizes to large for him, but there were a few items he thought were probably salvageable. A plain black button-down shirt, some black jeans and a pair of black leather boots that Dudley had only worn once to go to work with Uncle Vernon. Harry laid them out on the bed and pulled on thick, plain black socks he’d stolen from Dudley’s drawers as well as a pair of plain red boxer shorts. He then dressed in the clothes, which were far too big but definitely nicer than the cast-off’s he normally wore. 

Now, Harry’s relatives had always called him a freak, and Harry would be the first to admit that they hadn’t been completely wrong. See, he could do things. Odd things. Things that normal people couldn’t. Like one time, Aunt Petunia had tried to force an absolutely hideous sweater onto him, and he’d made it shrink until it was barely large enough to fit a doll. Once he’d realised that he was the one who made those things happen, he’d started focusing. Using the same energy, he felt zipping around his body like electricity and forcing it to do the things he wanted. So, as he stood, in the middle of Dudley’s large, toy-filled bedroom, he focused his magic on shrinking the clothes he was wearing until they fit his body perfectly. He grinned, and headed downstairs. After a few moments spent looking at the beautiful art he’d created, he grabbed a smaller knife from the kitchen and slipped it into his boot before sneaking out of the back door, walking in a random direction. 

////

The sun had gone down an hour ago at least, but Harry kept walking. He had made it at least to the next town over, and he was exhausted, but he really had nowhere else to go. He was resigned to continuing well into the night, when an old-fashioned black car pulled up beside him. As the back door opened, revealing a tall, pale man with a moustache, he whipped the knife out of his boot.

“A charming reaction!” the man’s voice was dramatic but jovial and sincere. 

“What do you want?” Harry scowled.

“pequeño, I was wondering if you needed help.” The man reached out as if to clap Harry’s shoulder, but the young boy ducked and held his knife to his throat before he could make contact. 

“Touch me and I slit your throat. I already did my aunt’s, so don’t doubt I’d be able.” He practically snarled, but to his surprise, the man grinned in response. 

“Real Addams spirit, wouldn’t you say, Lurch?” The man addressed the chauffer, who upon Harry’s inspection appeared almost Frankenstein-esque. Something about his waxy, dead-looking skin and grunting agreement put Harry at ease. “Say, what is your name, pequeño?” 

“Don’t know.” 

“Well, now, we can’t have that. Jump in, and how about you pick out your own name on the way home?” Harry wasn’t sure why, but for some reason he trusted these men- he felt as if he’d finally found his people. As the man settled himself back into his seat, he patted the car seat beside him, and Harry scrambled in. The three sat in silence, until Harry finally spoke. 

“Freak.” He smiled darkly to himself- he would reclaim the word for himself. 

“Freak Addams! A strong name! My name is Gomez, and me and my wife Morticia,” Gomez’ eyes went vaguely misty thinking about his Cara Mia. “Will be your mother and father now.” 

“Freak Addams…” 

////

“Freak Addams!” Professor McGonagall shouted and a hush befell the room, before heated muttering broke out- an Addams at any magic school was rare, made even rarer by the ‘Addams Clause’ written in to every school charter to prevent any more than one Addams being at each school at a time (Beauxbatons had, thanks to his sister Wednesday, decided last year to never allow another Addams into their school again- the family were so proud.) and given that Freak, the second youngest Addams currently, was already fourteen, and Pubert was lined up to go to Ilvermorny, they had hoped that they wouldn’t have any Addamses this generation- however, Freak had simply chosen to start a few years late in favour of apprenticing with Grandmama first. 

Freak made his way up to the front of the hall. He wasn’t dressed in the uniform or robes, but no students or teachers were stupid enough to try to punish an Addams for dress code- they were the most feared family in the entire magical world, even more so than the Malfoys or the Lestranges. Instead, Freak wore tight black trousers, tailored with blood-red stitching, black dragonhide boots with steel toe caps, a dark red button-down shirt cuffed to his elbows, showing off the thick knots of scarring on his hands and arms from Uncle Vernon or his siblings and the black leather wand holster strapped to his right forearm, and a beautifully cursed black pendant his mother had given him that morning, his shoulder-length black hair falling in waves around his strong face. He sat himself on the stool, legs crossed elegantly and his back straight and looked disdainfully down at the students in the hall- they all looked nervous or scared, except, seemingly, for one fourth year boy at the Slytherin table, who looked…. Interested. 

The hat didn’t even graze his head before shouting out “Slytherin!” Freak stood gracefully and made his way towards the table, glaring at a small girl until she moved aside and sitting himself by the interested looking boy. His hair was almost white and his eyes- they were sharp and grey and calculating, and suddenly Freak knew exactly what his father meant when he spoke about his Mother. 

“Draco Malfoy, a pleasure to meet you.” The boy’s voice was cold and oh so inviting as he held out a hand. 

Instead of shaking the proffered hand, Freak grasped it and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back. “Freak Addams, the pleasure is mine, amado mío.” The blond’s cheeks pinkened and Freak smirked. 

//// 

As soon as they got back to their dorm, Freak laid back on the corner bed and pulled out a cigar, lighting it with his wand. 

One of their roommates, a muggle-raised half-blood called Alaistor, reached out to touch Freak’s wand. “Your wand is so interesting, what wood is that?” 

Most of their roommates yelled out some variant of “Don’t touch that!”, but Freak noticed that Draco was just leaning against his trunk on the bed next to his and smirking. The warnings were too late anyway, as Alaistor’s hand connected with the wand and immediately split open, skin and flesh being flayed from the bone. The room was filled with the glorious sound of screaming, both from Alaistor and their other roommates. 

As the curse travelled up the boy’s arm, Draco smirked at him and said “You should probably stop that soon, wouldn’t want to have to deal with the Aurors just yet.”

Freak pouted jokingly. “But cariño…” 

“Next time, amor.” Draco stood and strode over towards Freak’s bed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips as the dark-haired boy flicked his wrist and released the curse. He turned to Alaistor- “Never touch an Addams wand.” 

Alaistor nodded weakly and slumped to the floor, dizzy from the blood loss. “I just wanted to know what wood it was.” 

Freak looked down at him. “It’s human bone and hag’s hair. Grandmama favours bone over wood.” His voice was cold, a clear warning to never touch his things again, and from the possessive hand he had laid on the small of Draco’s back, the entire room could see that that warning now included Draco. 

////

The next morning, as the Slytherin fourth years entered the great hall for breakfast, two were notably absent- Draco Malfoy and Freak. Ordinarily, all of the Slytherins in any given year would arrive as a group, as a matter of protection, and so to see that not all of them were there was worrying to say the least. Professor Snape was close to going and searching for his Godson himself when the hall doors again opened, and Freak Addams strode in, Draco Malfoy under his arm with visibly kiss swollen lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to polonium_snap for giving me the Spanish translations of what I was trying to say 🖤
> 
> pequeño is youngling
> 
> amado mío is beloved 
> 
> cariño is darling
> 
> amor is love


End file.
